Something You Should Know

by Melissa Hill

  “I can imagine. Becky, that’s just typical of you – the poor thing …” Mike chatted on for a few minutes more, before promising that he would ‘sort it out’, and speak to her tomorrow.

  Jenny wished she could have heard both ends of the conversation. What was there to sort out? More to the point, why, if they were divorced, was there something to sort out? Right then, Jenny was aching with curiosity.

  Mike put his phone back down on the table. “Sorry about that. I normally switch the damned thing off after hours. Anyway, what were we talking about?”

  “You were asking about my weekend,” she said quietly.

  “Oh right – yes. Well, I’ve some more houses to see on Saturday, so if you’re not doing anything, do you fancy coming house-hunting with me again?”

  Jenny smiled across at him, childishly pleased at being object of his attention once again. “OK – but only if you promise to come shopping with me afterwards. I need to get something for Karen – her birthday’s coming up and she got me a gorgeous lamp for the apartment when I first moved in. Actually,” she said, the thought of another outing with Mike cheering her more than she cared to admit, “you could come in very handy, now that I think of it.”

  “Handy,” Mike said flatly, his chin resting on his hand as he looked across the table at her. “I’ve been described many ways in my life – intelligent, funny, sexy, gorgeous – but handy? Now that’s a new one.”

  She giggled. “Sorry …no, seriously, I just thought I might get her a DVD player. Karen loves collecting movies and television shows. Something like that would be perfect for her. And you, being a technical whiz kid and all that, could help me pick it up … out – the DVD player I mean.”

  Jenny felt herself beginning to blush as she babbled out the rest of the sentence. Mike was smiling at her as if he knew exactly what she was up to. She must have been flirting too obviously with him, what with all that Goldilocks stuff and everything. She wouldn’t normally behave like this, and it wasn’t as if she was really sure she liked him as anything other than a friend but …

  She glanced shyly across at Mike, who was now busily scraping the remainder of his food up onto his fork. He picked up the plate and for a moment it looked to Jenny as though he was going to lick it clean, but then thought the better of it.

  “Now that,” Mike said, signalling for the bill, “was absolutely fantastic. It was that good, I could eat the same again and still come back for more.”

  “Are you always this enthusiastic about your food?” Jenny asked, unable to stop herself from wondering, if he was that enthusiastic about food, what he would be like in bed. The women’s magazines Karen used to buy were always going on about how the two were related. Jenny found she couldn’t stop smiling at the thought, as they walked out towards the carpark.

  A few minutes later, Mike pulled up outside Jenny’s apartment block. As he stopped the car but left the engine running, Jenny felt almost lonely going back to her empty apartment. She wasn’t sure exactly what, but she knew that something tonight had changed in the dynamic of their relationship. She still recalled quite clearly that sudden pang of jealously she had felt when he chatted so amiably with his ex-wife on the phone. All of a sudden, Jenny felt quite possessive of Mike and didn’t want the evening to end just yet. She wondered briefly whether she should ask him in for a while, but as they had already made arrangements for the following Saturday, there was no real reason for the invitation. Feeling stupid, and a little unnerved by her indecision, Jenny opened the car door and got out.

  “See you Saturday then,” she said cheerfully.

  “Looking forward to it,” he replied with grin, and he drove off, leaving Jenny smiling wistfully at his retreat.

  Chapter 30

  Karen hurried down the street in the pouring rain, battling against the wind with her umbrella, as the bus drove away from her stop. She put the key in the front door, dived inside and slammed the door behind her, relieved to be home at last. She removed her sopping wet jacket and wiped the dirty rain-spatters off the back of her tights. A bath – that’s what she needed after the day she’d had today. A nice warm bath with some lavender oil and plenty of bubbles, she decided, the thought of it warming her up already.

  But first, she needed something to eat. “Please, please, let there be something decent in the freezer,” she said out loud to no one in particular. Luckily, there was a frozen lasagne at the very back of the icebox. Perfect. That would only take ten minutes in the microwave. She was absolutely starving, and definitely in no mood for cooking a culinary masterpiece at nearly eight o’clock on a Friday evening. What with Shane going out with his workmates tonight for some leaving do or other, Karen didn’t need to. She switched on the microwave, and padded upstairs in her wet stocking-feet to check the immersion. Grabbing a towel from the rail, she went into her bedroom and changed into a T-shirt and her tracksuit bottoms, sorely tempted to put on her comfy bathrobe, but determined not to until after her bath.

  A few minutes later, she went back downstairs to check on her lasagne. It was a little overdone and rubbery at the edges, but what the hell, she shrugged, plonking the lasagne unceremoniously out of its plastic tray onto a plate, tomato sauce and pasta running everywhere.

  She went into the sitting-room, which was particularly untidy, even by her own standards. Yesterday’s newspapers were strewn all over the sofa, and the coffee table was covered with overflowing ashtrays, empty glasses and crisp packets. A plate of dried-up noodles lay on the floor alongside Shane’s armchair, along with a pair of trainers, a fleece top, and a copy of this month’s New Woman.

  She shook her head, moving aside the newspapers to find a space to sit down. Shane was usually great for tidying up after himself, but lately he had been working a lot of overtime and when he came home, was able for little else but flaking out on the sofa for an hour or so, and then off to bed. She couldn’t blame him.

  Anyway, she decided, she’d clean it up later – or, maybe it could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, all Karen felt like doing after her bath was flaking out on the sofa herself in a big fluffy bathrobe, with a bottle of wine, a big bag of crisps and Graham Norton on the telly. Anything but the Late Late Show.

  She finished the last of her lasagne and, leaving the dirty plate on the coffee table, along with the rest of the previous night’s debris, went upstairs to run her bath.

  A few minutes later, she felt the weariness melt away as she closed her eyes and sank into the warm, frothy bubbles.

  She was smiling happily to herself when she heard the telephone ring. She didn’t bat an eyelid. Let it ring away, she thought, there was no way she was giving up her bath for anyone. Not after staying behind for two extra hours in the office on a Friday evening, trying to clean up the mess her assistant had made with the wages, and getting drenched trying to battle it home in the pouring wind and rain, standing on the bus for the entire journey. No way. She sank further and further into the water until her ears were covered and she could no longer hear the ringing.

  Twenty minutes later, feeling rejuvenated and rather wrinkled, Karen dried off and stepped into her precious bathrobe; a fluffy, full-length chenille garment, with yellow stars and blue moons embroidered all over it. It had been a Christmas present from Shane one year, and Karen absolutely loved it. She wondered if he’d be late coming home tonight. It didn’t matter, she thought, wrapping a towel around her head and rubbing moisturiser on her face. They could stay in bed for as long as they wanted in the morning. Karen loved Saturday mornings almost as much as quiet Friday nights in. She and Shane would wake up whenever they felt like it, maybe have some sleepy, lazy sex, before getting up and lounging around for the rest of the day, reading the newspapers and watching the football results come in on Sky Sports.

  Karen walked back across the landing towards her bedroom to put on a pair of slippers, before going downstairs. As she did, she thought she heard rustling and movement downstairs. She checked the time on the alarm clock.
The time read ten thirty, so that meant…Karen did a quick calculation in her head, being one of those people who tried to kid themselves into believing they would get up earlier if they put the time on the alarm clock forward. Her calculations told her that it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet – Shane must have decided to come home early.

  Coming back out of the bedroom, the pile of wet towels and underwear on the bathroom floor caught Karen’s eye. She groaned. More mess. Well, that would have to be done tomorrow too, she decided firmly. They were all due a wash anyway, so it wouldn’t matter at this stage whether they got damp on the floor, or damp in the laundry basket which at any rate was downstairs in the kitchen beside the washing machine.

  Putting on her slippers and slipping a comb into her robe pocket, she went downstairs. She hoped Shane had had the intelligence to pick up a pizza or bag of chips on the way home from the pub. She certainly wasn’t going to cook anything for him at this hour of the night, and he nearly always got the munchies after drink.

  Then she did a double take.

  There was – not Shane – but Nellie Quinn, happily pottering around the living-room, picking up newspapers and emptying ashtrays into a black refuse-sack.

  “Nellie. What are you doing here?” she asked, incredulously. “Is Shane with you?”

  “Oh, hello, Karen,” Nellie said airily, scraping the remainder of Shane’s noodles into the refuse sack. “I didn’t think there was anyone here. I phoned about half an hour ago to let you know I was on my way over. I was in town for a bit of shopping earlier and with it being such a bad night, I thought I’d spend the night here.”

  She thought she’d spend the night …. The cheek of the woman. Then Karen thought of something else.

  “Nellie, how did you get in?” she asked, her voice rising in irritation, as she had visions of Nellie unceremoniously climbing in the back window.

  “I have a key,” Nellie said, reaching into her pocket and holding it up, as if Karen had never seen a key before. “I got Shane to cut one for me, in case any of us ever needed to get into the house when you’re not home – like tonight, for instance. It came in very handy altogether. Otherwise I would’ve been stuck out in that rain.”

  Unperturbed by Karen’s blatant annoyance, Nellie happily returned to tidying her son’s living-room. “You really shouldn’t leave these noodles dry overnight, you know,” she said, seemingly unaware that Karen’s insides were close to boiling point. “It’s almost impossible to get them off the plate now. I’ll have to soak them overnight.”

  “Nellie,” Karen said, through gritted teeth, “I’ll be tidying the place myself tomorrow. There’s no need for you to be putting yourself to any bother.”

  “But why do it tomorrow, love, when you can do it today?” Nellie said sweetly enough, but with a slight edge to her voice.

  “Nellie, don’t take this the wrong way,” Karen said, trying to keep her voice level, “but it’s absolutely none of your business when, and if, I tidy my own house. If I want it tidy, it’ll be tidy and if I want to leave it messy, then I’ll leave it messy.”

  Nellie looked as if she had been slapped. “Well...” she said huffily. “If I’d known how strongly you feel about someone trying to help you out, Karen, I wouldn’t have bothered.” She perched on the edge of the sofa, as if afraid to sit down properly for fear of getting the remains of yesterday’s dinner on her clothes.

  Karen gritted her teeth as Nellie continued.

  “There’s a pile of washing-up in the sink that needs doing, and I thought I’d save you having to do it. After all, you obviously have some form of aversion towards housework. But,” she continued, as Karen struggled with herself not to shake the woman, “it’s not for me to decide how you want to keep your house – or live your life.” She stared pointedly at the magazine on the ground in front of her.

  Karen realised with horror that it lay open at an article Shane had been reading with great amusement the previous night, entitled ‘Female Ejaculation – Can We Come Too?’

  “However,” Nellie said sharply, obviously not quite finished with Karen, “my son happens to live here too, and I’m not happy about his living amongst filth like this.”

  “How dare you call me filthy! There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way I keep this house, considering that I work all day every day and don’t have the time to be mopping up every little crumb that drops on the ground. And I very much resent your coming in here and trying to tell me what to do.”

  “If it wasn’t for me, dear, you wouldn’t even have a house to keep,” Nellie countered, in an amazingly calm voice that added even more to Karen’s annoyance. “Don’t forget it was myself that arranged for Jack to help you with the mortgage for this very house.”

  Karen clenched her fists. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She tried to calm herself down before she said something to Nellie that she’d really regret. She could almost hear her father’s voice in her head telling her to ‘count to ten’, like he always used to whenever he sensed her temper rising as a little girl. She felt her heartbeat quicken with rage, and she tried her best not to roar at the woman. This wasn’t the first time that Nellie had tried to undermine Karen’s housekeeping.

  During one of her visits, Karen had found Nellie sweeping the kitchen floor, claiming that ‘with that colour linoleum, it needed to be swept every day, and not just once a week’. And, on another visit, she had taken down the curtains from the spare room, telling Karen that she’d have them ‘washed and ironed in no time’. Karen had been livid at the time, but for some reason hadn’t mentioned either incident to Shane.

  This time though, she knew that the swords were drawn as far as she and Nellie were concerned. Imagine letting herself into the house and taking over just like that? She’d murder Shane for giving her a key. There was no way she was going to have Shane’s family crawling all over the place whenever they felt like it. Karen wouldn’t have her own family do that.

  Imagine if any of them walked in on her and Shane writhing on the floor some Sunday afternoon, she thought. Admittedly, it had been some time since they had done that, but that wasn’t the point, was it? She’d never be able to relax in this house again, if she thought that Shane’s crowd could arrive in at any minute. It was a crazy situation, and she’d be damned if she was going to put up with it for one minute longer. She’d have it out with Shane later when he got home.

  In the meantime, she supposed she’d have to pacify Nellie; otherwise they’d soon be at one another’s throats.

  She tried to be amiable. “Nellie, look, I’m sorry. I know you’re only trying to help. And the house isn’t usually this untidy. But I’ve had a very hard week at work, I only just got home a while ago and, to be frank, the last thing I wanted was visitors tonight – you know what I mean,” she added quickly, as Nellie looked huffy at being described as a visitor. “Look, all I wanted to do was relax for the evening, and not have to go on some cleaning frenzy. I was just surprised to find you here, that’s all.” Her voice softened. “Just forget about the plates and the washing-up – I’ll get rid of the newspapers and we’ll have a cup of tea, alright?”

  Nellie nodded, saying nothing. Karen began picking up the magazines and newspapers and putting them into the refuse sack. Then she went into the kitchen to put on the kettle, noticing that all the cupboards were open and Nellie had put what looked like every dish, every plate and every piece of cutlery they owned soaking in piping hot water in the sink. A fresh burst of fury erupted. The woman obviously thought she’d give the ‘filthy’ kitchen a good spring-clean while she had the place to herself. Karen fumed as she filled the kettle with water. Her kitchen was not filthy. Nor was she. Untidy maybe, but not dirty or filthy. She had lived away from home long enough at this stage, to be able to look after herself. If it wasn’t good enough for Mrs Quinn or her darling son – tough. They’d just have to go take a running jump.

  She felt an amazing surge of annoyance towards Shane, all of a sudd
en and felt tears smarting behind her eyes as she reached for the box of teabags she kept (in their own box, not in some fancy jar) in the cupboard. She had thought that owning their own home, and planning a future together would be fantastic, but so far it was turning into a complete disaster. The overbearing Quinn family’s involvement in their relationship, what with any one of them arriving on the doorstep at any time, and the constant digs about them having children and setting a date for the wedding: the whole lot was bit by bit driving a wedge between her and Shane.

  Karen knew for certain that she did not want to marry Shane if it meant sharing their lives with his family. They would need to sort that out before she’d ever dream of setting a date. Jenny and Tessa were absolutely right. She’d have to sit Shane down and talk to him about it, tell him exactly how she was feeling; otherwise their relationship would fall to pieces.

  She went back into the living-room with a cup of tea for Nellie and a bottle of wine for herself, thinking that if Nellie said anything about her drinking, she’d have to throttle the woman. However, they appeared to have reached an impasse, because her future mother-in-law was sitting quite happily in front of the television, watching the Late Late Show.

  Karen handed her a cup of tea and plastered a smile on her face. That put the kybosh on her plans for the evening then, she thought. She looked at her watch. Hopefully Shane wouldn’t be out too late, and she wouldn’t have to put up with the woman on her own for much longer.

  “Do you have any nice biscuits to go with that, love?” Nellie asked, smiling beatifically. “It’s good manners to offer a few biscuits with a cup of tea.”

  Blast the bloody woman, Karen said to herself, getting up again from the sofa. Was she ever going to get a chance to relax tonight?